


Make you feel at ease

by halesiias



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ballet, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe- Rivals, Angst, Anxiety Attacks, Distrust, Fluff and Angst, Injury, Insecurity, M/M, kind of, reduced age gap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-19
Updated: 2017-02-19
Packaged: 2018-09-25 15:28:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9826433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halesiias/pseuds/halesiias
Summary: “It was a pleasure meeting you, Katsuki. I look forward to being your rival,” Victor called as he walked toward the exit.“Yeah…”Wait.Rival?





	

**Age Nine**

There's a strange feeling in Yuuri's gut, something like determination. It swells inside, feeding on the rapid beat of his heart. There, a mere yard away, a boy with silver hair stretched his long legs on the floor. He slid into a perfect split, then leaned forward to stretch even further. He stayed in the position for a good minute before switching legs and sliding down, not quite to the floor but close. Then he stood, hands coming up to his small ponytail and tightening the sparkly band. The boy looked at the man beside him for approval, while he just sighed and dismissed the boy with the wave of a hand.

The boy with silver hair took the opportunity to stretch up into a passé position. His arms rose with him, and eventually sunk down in front as he switched into a sharp, unsteady pirouette. He sank back to his heels to catch himself in time, and played with his hair as the man Yuuri supposed was his instructor scolded him for recklessly turning without a proper warm up. Still, the boy leaped, turned, fell, and then got up again until he made a successful attempt.

The old man watching over the boy shook his head at his defiance and turned to leave out the secondary exit, while the boy laughed, as if it was a game they played. He then looked around, checking for any onlookers, before jumping into a sissone and landing with a slightly bent knee. Still, he persisted until he got it near perfect, then moved onto more difficult jumps.

Meanwhile, Yuuri glanced on from outside the studio window. It was on the ground floor, so it was fairly easy to glimpse into without being seen. He watched the pretty boy jump and twirl around for what seemed like hours, completely entranced by his skill. He felt his head rush, heart beating a million miles per hour. He wanted to see more, to feel it all, to catch up to that boy with silver hair and feel the rush of emotion he did. He swallowed, throat hoarse, then looked once more. The boy in the studio stopped abruptly, falling to his knee as his jumps became inconsistent.

Yuuri closed his eyes, wanting more, knowing he could do so much more. If there were anything he'd wanted so badly before, it was nothing compared to this longing he felt as he looked at that boy dance around the studio like he owned it. In that moment, Yuuri made a decision. He turned away, leaving the pretty boy to dance alone in the studio. He would later talk to his parents, beg if he really had to. His mind was made up, his heart was set, and he was ready to go.

I want to dance like that someday, thought Yuuri. And now it's only a matter of time

*** * ***

Months later, when Yuuri next returned to that studio, he was left with a crushing disappointment. That boy, the pretty one he saw dancing that cold January day, the same one who inspired him to start dancing in the first place, was gone. His instructor explained how the boy, Victor, as he was called, moved around a lot. She mentioned something about a difficult family, and Yuuri couldn’t help but wonder if that boy was doing alright.  
It was no matter, though. He would continue dancing, even if that Victor wasn’t there. Victor had introduced him to a new world, and there was no way he was going down then, not when he had so long to go until he caught up.

**Age Twelve**

Yuuri breathed slowly, feeling the exhaustion leave his body. He took a quick sip of water and was back on the floor in an instant. He dipped down into a plié, knees bent as he squatted down. He popped back up, not as elegant as he should’ve been, but it would suffice. He turned in place, pirouetting with the good form Minako-Sensei worked into his bones.

He stepped out too early in the landing, causing him to lose balance and fall over like he used to do so often in his novice lessons. He’d come a long way since then, even if he was a little behind the other students his age. It was no matter, though. As long as Minako-Sensei allowed him to practice on his own, he would catch up just fine.

Yuuri wiped the sweat off his brow and started another set, hoping that he’d perfect it that time. He’d been working on the same sequence for a good while, but it was still missing something. Minako-Sensei said he lacked substance. He argued he was lacking form. The two had engaged in a silent debate, and finally, Minako gave up, telling him to work on his form if he must, and walked out.

So Yuuri continued on his own, wondering what exactly his teacher had meant by ‘lacking substance.’ He knew he didn’t have the same experiences as everyone else, having been trained in a few years by his family friend, but his love for ballet was all there. Every once in awhile, his mind drifted back to that boy back in the very studio he stood in at that moment, just years before. That was the day he fell in love with dance, after all.

But maybe there was something more. That boy was different somehow, in ways Yuuri couldn’t explain. Surely he was older now, probably a teenager by that time, and he must’ve continued dancing. Yuuri wondered if he would see that boy again, to see his long silver ponytail twirling as he did, emotion coursing out of his nimble body throughout the studio, penetrating his heart.

Yuuri suddenly felt warm, like a blanket was placed over his shoulders. He stopped his routine, letting his heavy breaths fill up the quiet studio. Surely this was it, the depth Minako-Sensei had been looking for. Yuuri smiled and looked up at the ceiling, feeling at ease with the familiar grey panel ceiling.

“I’ll see you again.” said Yuuri. “Just you wait.”

**Age Fourteen**

“Yuuri.” called Minako-Sensei. “You’re not getting it.”

Yuuri paused, dropping his arms down to his waist. His face was scrunched up in confusion. What am I doing wrong? He thought. Is it my form?

Minako caught his expression and placed a hand on his shoulder, trying to get the boy to understand she meant well.

“Yuuri,” she began. “You’re doing exceptionally well.”

He blinked. “Huh-”

“But you can’t play a part without understanding who you are trying to be first.”

*** * ***

Yuuri had been competing for some time, and it would be his first shot in the Senior Division. His first competition was a month away, and he still had much to prepare for. He went through the steps again in his mind before standing on side of the studio with the mirrors. He stepped, arms raised, and started the opening to his program.

He did pirouettes across the floor, made shallow attempts at the difficult jeté from arabesque sequence. In a matter of minutes he was done, only slightly out of breath. Yuuri had his great stamina to thank, especially during competitions when stakes were high and he needed to increase performance levels to 500%.

He sipped on his water as he tugged on his shirt, feeling it caught on something. He detached a sly fish sticker from the back and felt his face burn. It was probably Takeshi. Though they were on good terms since Yuuko and Takeshi started dating, he still took the time to tease Yuuri. Yuuko thought it was mean. Yuuri thought it was endearing, in his own way.

He threw it away quickly, praying that no one saw that embarrassing revelation of his. He looked around, just to see if anyone caught him, but it was deserted. He was able to breathe again. Yuuri fiddled with the hem of his shirt some more before stepping back out onto the floor. He launched into his routine again, this time without a weight hanging on his shoulders.

Yuuri landed from his jeté battu gracefully, thankful he didn’t end painfully on his ankle as he had once done in a previous routine. He struck a final pose, feeling his breaths catch up to him. Yuuri dropped his pose and ran a hand through his hair, feeling sweat dripping down.

Then, across the studio, came a small, almost inaudible noise, He glanced around the room, seeking the source, but found nothing. He shrugged, turned back to his phone and was about to ask Minako-Sensei is there was an issue with the pipes or something when he had a small revelation.

Yuuri tiptoed up to the barre on the far side and peered around the corner, trying to get a glimpse of the small window in the corner. He almost completely missed it, which seemed a bit idiotic on his behalf, considering how he stood there six years prior and spied on some kid’s private practice session.

He peeked over his shoulder. He could barely make out the room without his glasses, but easily spotted a person peering in through the window. Yuuri felt his throat close up on him. So someone had witnessed his little scene. How embarrassing.

Yuuri walked away, deciding it wasn’t worth his time much. The person could come inside if they wanted; it was really up to them. He decided to stick to post-practice stretching, just so he wouldn't pull a muscle later by doing something so mundane as stepping off a curb.

Yuuri bent over to reach the floor, easily connecting his palms with the warm wood. He hummed as he stood up and lunged in place. Yuuri loved post-workout stretching. It gave his mind and body a chance to cool off after hours of intense work. He breathed in slowly as he rose from the floor again and stretched upwards, with a steady exhale following close behind.

When Yuuri was done he packed up his belongings and changed out of his workout clothes into his casual sweatpants and a hoodie. Yuuri exited the studio, switching off the lights and locking up as he went. He stepped out the door, and smiled as he felt a cool breeze whipping his hair around slightly. He usually felt so calm after his private dance session, enjoying a little free time before he headed home.

Yuuri turned the corner, looking up at the night sky wistfully. Years prior he had stared at that sky, praying to those sparkling stars that he’d get his chance to shine. Now he was almost fifteen and competing in the Senior Division. Where has time gone, and how had he already lost track of it? How had he become so lost in his own mind to ignore the world around him? Was that the reason he wasn’t adapting to the piece well? Was that the reason he couldn’t play the part? Yuuri searched the stars again, hoping those bright constellations would give him a piece of what he was missing.

Please, he begged. Give me a sign that I’ll be okay.

Yuuri breathed and closed his eyes, hearing his footsteps echo across the pavement. He turned the corner again, walking the familiar path home, and promptly ran someone over. The person gasped and fell over, belongings landing rather noisily on the street.

Yuuri opened his eyes and began to apologize, but the figure removed their hat, and he let out a small, shocked squeak.

“Huh?”

There was that silver haired boy again, just years older. He smiled and rubbed his hands together as they stung a disturbing red.

“Hi!”

*** * ***

They sat in a cafe, sipping on warm cider as Victor stared expectantly at Yuuri.

“You’re Katsuki, hm?” he asked. Yuuri nodded slowly and Victor pressed his palms together. His cheeks were stained a pretty strawberry color and his smile closely resembled a heart shape. Yuuri felt his heart melt at once.

“Okay Katsuki,” he said, offering a hand. “I’m Victor Nikiforov!”

Yuuri stared at the hand, not knowing how to approach the situation. Here was the guy who inspired him to start dancing in the first place, the main reason he was so determined to continue. But what did he say? Oh, you’re just my idol and number one reason for being able to breathe oh and you’re very pretty so-

“Katsuki?”

Yuuri whipped his head up, face turning pink. “Ah, sorry.”

Victor swallowed, forcing the smile to remain. _Oh no he’s hot. Wait isn’t that from Spongebob?_

Victor died a little inside then.

Yuuri hesitated, the shyly took Victor’s hand. “I’m Katsuki Yuuri. Well, Yuuri Katsuki for you. I’m sorry I smell bad I was just practicing and oh my god my hand is really sweaty. I should go wash it o-”

“Relax, Katsuki.” said Victor. “And it’s alright. I saw you practicing. You’re really talented, you know.”

Yuuri looked away, sheepish. “Ah, thank you. But I’m not talented. I just practice a lot.”

“But it takes talent to continue to practice, to train your brain to fight through the pain. Really, I think that’s talent. Oh, and that flexibility of yours, it’s magnificent. Of course, Yuri is more lithe, but he’s still young.” Victor stopped, then picked up with a gentler tone. “Really, you’re quite good.”

Yuuri was becoming increasingly flustered. Exactly how long was he watching me?

“Oh, um, thanks. I’ve been training for a few years so-”

“How long?” Victor seemed to enjoy interrupting others, and Yuuri had to hold back a distressed sigh.

“Um, I’m fourteen now, turning fifteen soon, so...about six years.”

Victor nodded as he sipped on his lukewarm cider and stood up to throw it away.

“It was a pleasure meeting you, Katsuki. I look forward to being your rival,” Victor called as he walked toward the exit.

“Yeah…”

Wait. _Rival?_

**Age 15**

 

**December**

One week after their little encounter Victor was back at the studio, but this time with the grumpy old coach from years before. As it turned out, Minako had invited Victor back after he moved back to town, and so the studio became a place for joint practices with Victor and his coach Yakov.

Those days they stayed on separate sides of the studio, turning around as much as they possibly could, both to outdo each other and to sneak glances at each other. It was silly, in Victor’s opinion, that they would stare from the corners of their eyes then hurriedly look away. He told himself it was just to see how his competition was doing, just so he could win.

Yuuri, on the other hand, was a bit too honest with himself. Hey Yuuri, you know Victor is like your idol and stuff, so it would be great if you wouldn’t miss that jump and look like an absolute fool in front of him. Thanks.

Yet they still stared on, and no one else in the studio had the energy to say anything.

 

**March**

March, aka allergy hell. Victor couldn’t stop sneezing, and he always had to carry around a little tissue box with him, one that had a little poodle print on it. Yuuri mentally made a note to find a similar pattern for his own usage, because god those poodles were cute. Although, cute dogs were nothing compared to Victor’s kitten-like sneezes and constantly red nose and cheeks. Whenever he sneezed Yuuri felt his heart leap in his chest, and then settle momentarily, only to pirouette at a follow up sneeze.

Yuuri handed him tissues in between instruction, to which Victor was thankful for. He even bought him a little hand sanitizer bottle with a sparkly pink poodle key chain holder. Victor gushed over it for a week, at least, trying his best not to smother the boy in thankful hugs and kisses.

Yakov took one look at it and sighed. “Vitya, how old even are you? You’re acting like a seven year old girl.”

Victor crossed his arms, a pout evident on his face. “This isn’t for girls. It’s _mine_. It’s for _me_.” he defended.

“All I’m saying is that maybe a sixteen year old boy shouldn’t be carrying around sparkly poodle keychains. You know how people are treated back in Russia.” said Yakov quietly.

Victor huffed and flipped his hair over his shoulder. “In case you hadn’t noticed Yakov, I don’t really care about what people think about me.”

He then glanced over his shoulder, eyes turning over to Yuuri’s thin body stretching out across the floor. His pupils dilate, and his breath hitches. He turned back away, back towards his stash of tissues, and looked over at the little hand sanitizer bottle on his bag.

“Correction; I care about what one person thinks.”

*** * ***

"Vitya, are you okay?” asked his mother one day.

“Ah, yes. Just tired, is all.”

Victor felt terrible for lying to her.

 

  **May**

 

May brought the arrival of Victor’s interesting cousin, who coincidentally shared a name with Yuri. Russian Yuri was not so pleased by that disposition, but got over it quickly.

“Well, I call him Katsuki so you can have the name to yourself!” said Victor.

Yuri thought, then nodded in agreement. On the other side of the studio, however, Yuuri looked away wordlessly, hurt. He didn’t know why it irked him so bad, why he couldn’t just let it go. _I’m just being stupid. Get over yourself. Yuri has known Victor forever. Let. It. Go!_

But the more Yuuri thought about it, the more he wanted to understand. He moved away from Victor more, creating space between them. It was like a rift, a division from the norm, and it made Victor extremely worried.

Did I do something wrong? He’d ask himself time and again.

But it was all in Yuuri’s head, after all, so things went unsaid.

*** * ***

“Katsuki!” came a cheery call from Victor across the room. He was gathering his belongings while Yakov popped some pills for his growing migraine.

Yuuri shrugged at Minako, who facepalmed. Her student was constantly distracted by that boy on the other side of the studio and she was growing impatient. She sighed helplessly and waved him off. “Go. We’ll pick up on this tomorrow.”

Yuuri hesitated, but eventually gave in as he saw his teacher’s expression. He thanked her then gathered up his own belongings and met Yuri and Victor at the door. Yuri looked murderous, a death glare pointed at the wall, and Yuuri decided not to comment.

“Let’s go out for crêpes!” cried Victor.

Yuuri blushed and fiddled with his fingers. “Is it really okay for me to go along? I don’t want to spoil Yuri’s time here.”

Yuri looked like he wanted to say something very nasty, but Victor sent him a silent plea. Yuri then sighed, ran a hand through his hair, and argued. “It’s fine. We’re all hungry anyway. Let’s just go.”

They walked through the streets quietly, with only a small conversation between Yuuri and Victor to clear the air. Yuri was obviously third wheeling, but didn’t speak. He only walked on with motivation for those yummy crêpes he had yet to try, and even walked quickly, with purpose.

They arrived at the little concession stand that sold the crêpes, and Yuri tried to contain his excitement when he found they had a crepe with tiger stripes on it. The three dancers then walked slowly on their way home, listening to the world revolve around them as they were stuck in their little bubble.

Somewhere along the way, Victor grasped Yuuri’s hand in his, but when, neither could recall. They didn’t separate, though, and let their fingers stay tightly pressed together until they had to part ways.

“Katsuki!” Victor called. Yuuri turned around, to see Victor clutching something to his chest. Victor ran back up to Yuuri and held something up to his face.

“I hope you like it.”

Yuuri felt his face catch on fire. It was a hand sanitizer holder, just like Victor’s, but with a blue poodle on it. He accepted it and placed it on his gym bag, trying to shrug the shock and utter adoration off his words, and ultimately failing.

“Thank you so much,” said Yuuri. “I’ll cherish it.”

The two boys stood there, basking in the rich evening sun. They were sporting equal flushes and open embarrassment, to which Yuri rolled his eyes at and groaned.

_Only those two idiots would be excited about something like hand sanitizer._

 

**June**

 

"Your form sucks," said Yuri. "It's _relevé lent_ , not relent."

Victor laughed under his breath while Yuuri turned a pretty shade of pink. He placed a steady hand on Yuuri's shoulder, causing the other boy to squeal.

"Nikiforov!" he cried. "Don't sneak up on me like that!"

"Sneaky my ass." Yuuri looked at his cousin, eyes narrowed and clearly judging him. "He tried to take the last pirozhki this morning and tripped on the carpet on his way back upstairs. The pirozhki died and Victor didn't, _unfortunately_."

"Yuri!" exclaimed Victor. He launched himself onto his small cousin, shaking the boy about. "Stop! I didn't want him to hear that!" He accidentally smacked straight into Yuuri, but hardly noticed as he tormented Yuri. The Japanese boy, on the other hand...

Yuuri turned around, eyes the size of dinner plates and a mortified look on his face.

"Uh...Nikiforov?."

Victor reeled back on his heels. He tilted his head, confused. His cousin smacked his head, saying "Victor you idiot." And then it clicked in his brain. He smiled awkwardly, face burning an awful red.

"I touched your-?"

Yuuri nodded. "Yeah."

There was an awkward silence before Yuri cleared his throat.

"While you two do...whatever this is, I'll be out. Bye."

He flicked his hair over his shoulder as he walked. Victor and Yuuri stared at each other intently before cracking. They hid their giggles behind their hands and hair, trying not to alert the moody boy and anger him further. And when they were sure Yuri was gone, they let themselves go and laugh freely.

"Oh my god," choked Victor between giggles. "Did you see his face?"

Yuuri smiled and wiped at the corner of his eye with his sleeve. "Is he always like that, Victor?"

Victor froze in his spot, blush dusting his cheeks. Yuuri exhaled harshly.

"You said my name."

Yuuri blinked. "Huh." he said. "Oh sorry!"

He looked up expectantly, and was met with a gentle look, one he'd only seen when Victor was with his mama.

"I never thought I could grow more interested in you," said Victor. "but here we are, and you just keep on surprising me."

Yuuri mumbled under his breath, "So cheesy." Victor smiled and took his hand to assist him through the steps of the relevé lent, enjoying the feeling of Yuuri's warm palm against own his cool one.

"Alright, follow my lead now and we should be good to go! Come on, pas de deux!" Before Yuuri had time to process that they were shifting gears Victor spun around, sending Yuuri tumbling to the floor.

"Victor," he complained.

Victor offered Yuuri a hand. "It sounds good coming from your mouth. Say it again."

"...Victor."

Victor pulled him up into a tight hug, arms wrapping around Yuuri's slim frame and pulling him close. Yuuri felt like his soul was leaving his body. Victor. Hugging him. Dance studio. Oh.

"Ah, I'm in love!" exclaimed Victor, patting Yuuri's hair affectionately.

Yuuri forced himself to glimpse away. "Victor! Don't just say things like that!"

"Okay..." Victor paused and grinned at the boy, a subtle smirk forming and eyebrows narrowed to fit his devious tone. "Yuuri."

Yuuri flushed like a tomato and hid behind his hands, all while Victor leaped around him, eyes starry and wide, all too dramatic for Yuuri's taste.

"Yuuri don't be shy! It's only fair, after all!" called Victor.

"I'm dying." said Yuuri, words muffled by the palms of his hand. They were sweating profusely and he felt like gagging. There was no way he was going to crumple now of all times. Instead he opted for a sigh, wrung his hands on the side of his pants and forced some water down his throat.

"Yuuri, Yuuri, Yuuri, my sweet Yuuri!" Victor cooed, causing Yuuri to nearly spit out his water all over the Russian boy. Victor really had no self restraint, did he?

"Victor!" he coughed.

"Yuuri!"

He wrapped his arms around Yuuri's middle, cradling Yuuri's face to his shoulder. Yuuri hesitated, as always, then reciprocated the hug. Victor smiled sweetly, as seen in the mirrors on the studio wall, and closed his bright blue eyes.

"You make me so happy," he mumbled. "More than you could ever imagine."

*** * ***

A quiet conversation with his mother quickly shifted to an uncomfortable topic; his father. His father wanted to see him, even after everything, the neglect, the emotional abuse, all of it. His father was the one who decided to keep moving him around, and one day he grew sick of it. He eventually fell back into his mother’s custody, which he was so thankful for, and she found him a coach, an old family friend.

Now they debated softly on the past. Victor’s mama was a quiet lady, she always was. She never raised her voice, swore, none of that. She was the sweetest lady in the land, as dubbed by Victor himself. But she had a lot of regrets about her past, and what she could’ve done to help him become someone rather than wait around for something like she did in her ballerina days.

"Imagine if we had stayed in St. Petersburg." she said. "You could've attended the Russian School, Vitya."

"I suppose I could've," he replied slowly. "but then I wouldn't have been as willing to fight."

He took a breath to compose himself. "Yuuri's expanded my horizons," said Victor with a smile. "He's shown me something I hadn't known before."

His mother's eyes crinkled fondly as she smiled, a blossoming color brushing her cheeks.

"I always saw my younger self in you, Vitya." "Bright eyes, a bright mind, a bright future."

She paused, words dripping nostalgia. "But now I see, you're so much more accomplished than I was back then."

He thought for a moment as she spoke, her words truly resonating inside him, words he hadn’t really considered before. "It isn't everyday you find the motivation to go on, is it?"

"I suppose not," said Victor. "And that's why he's so important to me."

"Do you love him, Vitya?" asked Mama. "Do you?"

He remained quiet, tucking a strand of silver behind his ear, mouth turning upwards at her question. He knew his mother like the back of his hand. She was kind, and brilliant, and very demanding at the best of times. The way she carried herself, nose upturned at the sight of those hasty people rushing through life, showed her outlook on the future and regrets towards the past. She took her time, enjoying the world for what it was, enjoyed seeing her son achieve his goals, and all while working day and night to provide and care for what she had. Victor didn't know how he got so lucky to have her in his life. She knew what was best for him and supported his decisions, whatever they were, and she didn't push unless she was in a dire situation.

And here she was now, prying into his overflowing heart and requesting an opportunity to glance inside, if just for a moment. She wanted to know more, to see who her little boy had become as he was dragged by the wrist by another. She wanted to know just who he was now that he found something in life worth fighting for. His mother, who wasted her own precious time and money for his sake, was asking if she might be lucky enough to learn something about her son.

"I do," he whispered, heart displayed on his sleeve. "I really, truly love him."

 

**July**

 

With Yuuri’s first regional competition came a small victory for him. Yuuri snatched second place, miraculously, in his opinion, and won a gleaming trophy. He saw the disappointed looks of his competitors as he walked the wide halls, searching for his instructor. Minako-Sensei was always so exuberant, and sometimes she got a little overexcited. The last Yuuri had seen of her was when she rushed off outside, yelling something about someone.

He looked around, wondering if he would ever find her in such a large vicinity. There were people everywhere, streaming around others, stopping to chat, taking up space. There were too many people in too small of a space. Yuuri looked around, eyes blurring through the crowd. His head began to spin, and the dizzying factor made him stumble over his feet.

He was losing breath, like it was being sucked out of his cold body with a vacuum. He gasped, feeling like the wind was being knocked out of him repeatedly. His heart thumped against his chest, mind swirling with fear as he looked around for the one person he knew, the one person he could trust out of hundreds in the large venue. His feet suddenly ached; everything ached, all at once, yet not at all. It was all so confusing, so terrifying, so-

He almost tripped over his feet onto some poor man. Yuuri stood with shaky legs, feeling them nearly give out underneath him. He wanted to run, to cry, to hide, to find his missing instructor and get out of that place as quickly as he could. But Yuuri was stuck in the crowd unable to move, speak, or do much of anything.

His gaze fell to a door on the other side of the hall. Next to it was Minako, happily talking with Victor’s coach. Yuuri slowly gained his balance, surprised that he wasn’t already crumpling to the floor. He managed to work his way around people, feeling their shifty glances shattering against his skull.

As he worked his way up to the opposite end, he felt the air flow back into his lungs the rush out again, endlessly repeating the cycle. He told himself to calm down, that he’d be fine, that he’d collect Minako-Sensei, she would give him meds, and he’d be okay. Yuuri maneuvered around competitors, coaches, and talkative parents. Their voice molded together, all shouting at once, telling him he wasn’t good enough, that he didn’t deserve that trophy, that he should just give up.

Yuuri felt his eyes burn, throat closing in on itself. He wanted to scream for help, but his mouth was dry and lungs constricted. Help, he wanted to cry, please, someone, anyone, help me. And suddenly someone was reaching out for him, a familiar face among the crowd.

“Oh, Yuuri,” said the boy. “Come one, let’s go.”

His hand grasped his shoulder tightly as he pulled Yuuri along, careful not to lose him amongst the crowd. Yuuri blinked, thoughts slowly catching up to him and reaching his mind. They reached the men’s restroom and swiftly ducked inside, the boy making haste to get Yuuri out of the hall quickly. He then pulled him against the wall and had Yuuri sit down on the floor.  
Yuuri felt his head buzz. “Victor?” he asked. The boy nodded, silver ponytail bobbing along with him. He too sat down on the cool tile and took Yuuri’s hand in his own, feeling the rushed pulse against his own.

They sat in silence. Just feeling each other’s presence was enough. Slowly, Yuuri’s breath regulated again, and he curled up against Victor.

Neither spoke of that day again.

**August**

 

There’s nothing better than going to the pool on a hot summer day.

Actually, that’s a lie.

The public pool is terrible, especially when your especially attractive rival happens to be there, shirtless and sunbathing with his bratty little cousin.

Yuuri spotted Victor from the moment he walked inside, that grey hair of his standing out amongst the crowd. He quickly hid behind Phichit, who was giggling behind his hand.

“Oh Yuuri!” he sang. “I think your precious Vicky is over there.”

“Phichit, shut up.”

Phichit moaned softly. “And those _oils_ , Yuuri. His slick, shiny body, moving over y-”

“Phichit!” he yelled.

Victor looked up at the sound, taking off his shades. Yuuri tried to hide again, but Phichit stepped out of the way.

“Yuuri!!” called Victor.

Yuuri sighed and obliged to walking up to Victor, ignoring the other Yuuri’s glare. Victor stood up and hugged Yuuri tightly, causing Yuuri to flush bright red. Oh god, Phichit was right. The oils are real.

“Hi Victor.” said Yuuri quietly. He grasped onto Phichit’s cover up loosely and bit his lip. “How...nice to see you.”

“Oh, who’s your...friend, Yuuri?” asked Victor. He tried not to sound too jealous, but Yuri obviously caught on and rolled his eyes, scrolling through Instagram mindlessly.

“Hi! I’m Yuuri’s friend, Phichit!” Phichit introduced himself. “So you’re the famous Victor, hm? Yuuri has told me a lot about you.”

Yuuri looked betrayed. He smacked Phichit’s arm and tried to drag him away. Victor, however, called out for him.

“Hey Yuuri, wanna go swimming?” asked Victor.

Yuuri looked at Phichit for help, but his Thai friend offered none.

“...okay.”

Victor actually squealed. “Yay!” He pulled Yuuri towards the pool, while Phichit laughed and set up a chair to lay on.

“Jump in, Yuuri!” Victor said.

Yuuri protested. “But what if-”

“No buts!” Victor exclaimed. In an instant, Yuuri was in the water, and Victor still on land.

“Victor, don’t push me!” he yelled.

“Sorry Yuuri, but it had to be done.” he grinned. “Now, look out!”

Victor jumped into the water, nearly hitting Yuuri, and splashing him in the face. Yuuri yelped and Victor resurfaced, a sly smile on his face.

“You’re disturbing the elders.” Yuuri pointed out, but Victor just shrugged.

“They like it. See!” He took Yuuri in his arms and held him. “Guess what color I’m thinking of! If you get it wrong I dunk you!”

Yuuri looked scared. “Why?”

“Because!”

“That’s not a reason!”

Victor whined, “Yuuri, just play with me! Come on, it’ll be fun!”

“Fine.” said Yuuri. He stopped wriggling in Victor’s arms and leaned back, staring up at his face. “How about...I don't know...blue?”

“Nope!”

His head was dunked back quickly. Water shot up his nose, and when Victor picked him back up he coughed violently.

“Ow!”

“Sorry! Guess again!”

“Ugh.. _.green_?”

Another dunk.

“Pink?”

He guessed five more times before he hopped out of Victor’s arms and landed on his feet.

“Aw, Yuuri, you didn’t even guess it yet!” complained Victor.

“Just tell me what it was. I’m not doing that again.” Yuuri crossed his arms defiantly, and Victor pouted.

“Fine. It was….” he paused for added suspense. “Brown!”

Yuuri made a face. “Why brown? It’s such an ugly color.”

Victor smiled at him in a way that made his heart beam. He cupped his cheeks and got way, way too close, words nearly invisible to his ears. “Your eyes are very pretty, you know. “He murmured.

Yuuri choked on a breath and turned away coughing. He then got out of the pool, motioning for Victor to come to. The older boy frowned but got out anyway, following Yuuri up to the spot where his cousin and Phichit were relaxing in the sun.

He wrapped Yuuri up in his towel, arms coming around him in a hug from behind. He was hardly embarrassed, having been close enough to kiss him a minute before anyway, but his cheeks stung red. _I must have a sunburn. Yep, not blushing. Just sunburn._

Meanwhile, Yuuri’s head was spinning, and not from being dunked underwater so many times. Is Victor just using me? he asked himself. There’s no way he likes me...right?

Eventually, they split, but not before Victor enveloped Yuuri in a hug one last time. He felt something press on his head, and he pulled away quickly. Victor was red, but perhaps it was just exposure to the sun.

_Am I just a tool?_

 

**September**

 

Summer was over, and so was the competition season, but Victor and Yuuri would not rest. It seemed like an endless cycle for them; wake up, go to school, practice, sleep. Victor’s mother was becoming more worried by the day. She noticed his lack of sleep, his irregular schedule, and strange habits. She started shoving more food on his plate, silently insisting he eat more because _god, he was getting thin_. And since he loved his mother so, he obliged, if only for her comfort.

But Victor was still a wreck, a terrible, lovesick wreck. He’d wake up, and the first thing he’s think about was Yuuri. He’d brush his teeth, and Yuuri was in his mind, wiping hot chocolate off his lips. There he was again as he ate, seizing a bite of waffle in his mouth. Yuuri appeared everywhere; at the water fountain, in the park, everywhere, each a piece of memory from previous encounters.

Victor didn’t know if he was cursed or blessed. Sure, Yuuri’s face gave him the courage to walk on, to not give up and to continue forth with everything he had. But, at the same time, it was rather scary seeing the pretty Japanese boy everywhere. Yuuri haunted his dreams, appearing in a hazy white steam, followed by a trail of sunflowers.

Victor couldn’t help but wonder what it all meant. He knew he was desperately in love with Yuuri. Every bit of choreography, all those turns and leaps and silent pleas for someone to stay close to him in his routine, he found they all were fuelled by Yuuri. He didn’t struggle with finding his theme of desperate love and longing anymore, not when it was right next to him.

So he silently dedicated his performances to the boy who made his heart sing. Even if Yuuri wasn’t there to watch him, he knew he’d always be there beside him in spirit, and just that was enough for him.

Recently, though, Victor had started craving for Yuuri’s attention. Though his cousin was still around to arrange something with Yakov, Victor only really had Yuuri and Christophe Giacometti down the street to talk to. Though, Yuuri was acting distant again, and Victor was growing sadder by the day.

“Yuuri!” he’d exclaimed as he walked in the studio door, arms spread wide.  
Instead of a hug, though, he received a passive look and a small greeting from Yuuri. Victor felt his heart snap in that moment, and he was rather out of it during practice, so much that Yakov sent him home 2 hours early, where he cried into his pillow until his mother brought him warm soup and a sympathetic smile.

"It's not like you to zone out at practice, Vitya." she said. He sighed, feeling the tension on his shoulders build up. His mother was kind, maybe even too kind, and she wasn’t one to pry. He knew the only way for her to find out was if he opened up to her.

"Yeah well," he dipped to head down to avoid his mother's stare. "I don't really feel like myself anymore."

She blinked twice, then shifted her lips into a knowing smile.

"Ah," she said.

Victor ended up skipping two practices in a row before he got an angry phone call from Yakov demanding he be at the studio the next day, or at the very least acknowledge his existence. Victor giggled as he heard the phone ring and awaited his instructor’s booming voice from the other end. And soon enough, Yakov was yelling at him over the phone.  
“Vitya!” he exclaimed. “Where are you?”

Victor groaned and tugged on a strand of hair. “Terribly ill, Yakov. I think I’m dying.”

He heard a hiss come from the other end, likely from his, er, _special _cousin Yuri, and a loud crash. Victor pretended he didn’t hear Yakov blatantly instruct Yuri to come to his house and kidnap him.__

____

“Hey Yakov,” whined Victor. “I think I’m actually dying. This is serious.”

__

Yakov sighed, clearly exasperated by the Russian teen’s antics. “Vitya, what’s wrong? It’s not like you to miss practice. I never thought anything could keep you away, not even illness.”

__

Victor bit his lip, feeling it tremble beneath his teeth. He didn’t know what was wrong, not really. Everything hurt, all at once, and then not at all. It was confusing, consuming, overwhelming…

__

He thought of Yuuri, dancing around the studio, eyes narrowed as he struggled to see without glasses on, and hair pushed back off his forehead. Victor’s heart skipped a beat. Yuuri, holding my hand, he thought. Another beat missed.

__

Victor let out a shaky breath. “Yakov,” said Victor softly. “My heart hurts.”

__

The man was silent for a moment, before he exhaled quietly.

__

“Oh, Vitya,” he said.

__

Then Yakov hung up, and Victor was left alone to his thoughts.

__

 

__

**Age 16**

__

 

__

**December**

__

 

__

Things got better. As it turned out, Yuuri was just mourning the loss of his poodle. Not that Victor didn’t care. Of course he cared, but he was just glad to have his Yuuri back.

__

The day he returned Yuuri immediately apologized for dismissing him. They didn't talk much, but over the next two months they stayed together.

__

Yuri went back to St. Petersburg to go back to school. He attended Vaganova Academy of Russian Ballet, the school Victor planned to apply to before he moved away. Yuri was only visiting because his grandfather fell ill. It was a rather fortunate coincidence that Victor's coach was the headmistress’ ex-husband.

__

Victor was finally becoming content with his life. He and Yuuri only grew closer as time went on, and Yuuri had even began reciprocating his touches more.

__

Like the previous day, when Victor slung an arm around Yuuri’s shoulders, and Yuuri tentatively wrapped an arm around Victor's waist. Victor blushed fiercely and continued on his way, hugging Yuuri closer than before.

__

They acted so close it was easy to forget they were rivals. In fact, Victor himself had forgotten until Yakov reminded him that he needed to start preparing for his first competition of the season.

__

For once, he was up against Yuuri, and they would have to act as proper rivals rather than competitors. Victor didn't even know if he could do that. Yuuri fuelled the love behind his routine and made it come to life. What was love when you were on opposite sides of the battlefield, though?

__

He chose not to think too much of it. They would be fine. It would be okay. He'd be alright.

__

_Breathe._

__

 

__

**January**

__

 

__

Day of the competition arrived, and Yuuri was freaking out. There was no way he could've gone against Victor. Victor had been dancing since he was little, having been involved in pre-ballet classes since he was five, then received regular training starting at age eight. Victor was years ahead of him, and there was no way he could outdo him.

__

He felt like he was suffocating. He buried his head into his jacket, throat closing in on itself. He was restless the night before and slept painfully on his shoulder, which Minako-Sensei would surely yell at him for later.

__

He sipped on a juice box and tried to calm down before he had to compete, before it was too late. But Victor’s smile burned a hole through his brain and made it difficult to think.

__

Yuuri wasn't sure what Victor's intentions were. He knew they laughed and talked like old friends, but at the end of the day, they were rivals who would face each other in competition.

__

Maybe Victor was trying to make a fool of him. He wouldn't be surprised if that was the case. Sure, Victor claimed he was intrigued by Yuuri, but he could easily use it against him.

__

Yuuri was weak mentally, which Victor knew. Maybe he was going to use him right before the competition, crush his spirits, and therefore make him perform badly. It was farfetched though, right?

__

Yuuri's head spun as he spotted Victor across the hall. The Russian teen flashed him a grin and made his way over, slinging an arm around his shoulder like always. Yuuri tensed, though, and didn't even hear Victor's words.

__

“-ay? Do you really think-”

__

Yuuri grit his teeth together. “Victor shouldn't you be warming up?”

__

Victor stopped talking, heart sinking. “Oh. I suppose. Really though, I think it's best we-”

__

“Your coach is probably worried,” said Yuuri, near monotonous. “Go look for him.”

__

Victor grimaced and turned away, hand coming up to grasp at his chest as he walked away from Yuuri.

__

“You're not yourself today, Yuuri.” muttered Victor.

__

Meanwhile, Yuuri talked over his program with Minako, trying to ignore the stinging in his heart.

__

*** * ***

__

Yuuri put on a great performance, despite his insecurities. He tried thinking of his love instead of whatever was holding him back, and it seemed to do the trick. Victor's smile came to mind, that cute heart shaped one he did when he was really excited about something. Even if Victor had ill intentions, a little lie never hurt for one performance, not if he told himself that Victor cared, that he loved Yuuri.

__

Yuuri wanted to believe it, he really did. But the fear of living without Victor slowly crept up on him, until Yuuri had to run off to the restroom to compose himself.

__

He knew Victor was starting soon, but there was no way he'd face him with a runny nose and bloodshot eyes. Though, Victor probably wouldn't even care. He was just a tool anyways.

__

He hid in a stall, trying to keep his sniffles to a minimum. He heard the door slam and the faucet switch on and off a couple of times but no one said anything. Yuuri was then left in silence for awhile, stuck inside his mind as he fell apart in a bathroom stall.

__

He sat there for far too long. His legs were becoming numb and his head was pounding. He didn't even register someone had entered until he heard someone call for him.

__

“Yuuri?” asked Victor. “Are you in here?”

__

Yuuri didn't respond and only tucked his face into his hands. He tried to block out the noise with his palms. He heard Victor sigh and tap his knuckles against the door.

__

“Yuuri, open up.”

__

Yuuri felt like his heart was going to beat out of his chest. He wiped his snotty nose on his sleeve and tried to level out his breathing. He'll be angry at me for perfoming like that, won't he? That's why he's here, isn't he?

__

“Yuuri.” said Victor. “Do you not want to see me perform?”

__

Ah, so he is angry.

__

Yuuri coughed and put a hand up to his cheek, feeling the flushed skin heated up to an abnormal temperature and gulping harshly because of it.

__

Victor was growing impatient, that Yuuri could tell without even looking. “Yuuri. I have to perform soon. It would be best if you coul-”

__

Yuuri interrupted, standing abruptly and slamming the door open. “ _What?_ ” he cried, strained voice tearing through the quiet.

__

He blinked. Victor was on the floor, face hidden behind his hands. Yuuri's pulse skyrocketed. He watched as Victor stood, eye covered, and placed a hand on his shoulder.

__

“You were amazing,” he said. “Utterly amazing.”

__

Yuuri melted into Victor's touch, still nervously biting as his lip over lashing out for a moment.

__

Victor smiled and pulled away briefly, uncovering his eye. Yuuri gasped. It was already swelling up, turning unattractive shades of violet and black that looked so out of place against Victor's pale skin.

__

“I'm so sorry!” said Yuuri. “Oh god, your eye...and you're up next! What should I do?”

__

Victor didn't frown, not as he cupped Yuuri's face and gazed into his warm brown eyes, not as he wiped his thumb across Yuuri's cheek to get rid of a stray tear, and definitely not when he slid his eyes closed and leaned in, placing a gentle kiss upon Yuuri's lips.

__

His lips were shockingly cold, and Yuuri pulled away quickly. He stepped back, face beet red and fingers nervously flicking at his jacket.

__

Victor stared, eyes dull and lips parted.

__

_I guess it's unrequited, after all._

__

In an instant he forced a smile back onto his lips, and then Yuuri was in his arms again.

__

"I have to go," said Victor. "See you soon."

__

Pale hands ran over Yuuri's face once more before Victor parted from him. He walked out the door, humming as he walked along, leaving Yuuri to stand there in shock

__

Around the corner, Victor walked numbly towards his coach. He knew Yakov would yell at him for being so reckless as to damage his face right before a competition, but he didn't care.

__

He walked on with a shattered heart, face stoic, but mind screaming in pain.

__

*** * ***

__

Yuuri avoided his gaze, and instead looked out into the audience. Victor held up the third place trophy, and felt his heart sink.

__

*** * ***

__

Yuuri skipped practice for the first time in four years. He was distraught, having no one to turn to, and instead stayed holed up in his room all day.

__

"He kissed me," said Yuuri. He touched his lips, gently running over the spot as he remembered the feel of the other teen’s lips. He looked out the window, watching the wind whip the tree branches in every direction. Yuuri lied down on his bed, eyes closing as he tucked his head into his pillow. "He finally kissed me."

__

He looked down at his hand, all cut up from when he slipped on the sidewalk the other day. His eyes stung, tears threatening to flow over onto his sheet. He brought the hand up to his throat, grasping for a fresh breath to relieve him of the itching. "And," said Yuuri. "he hates me."

__

*** * ***

__

“ _Mama?_ ”

__

Victor's mama paused, hearing her son talk for the first time in awhile. “Yes, Vitya?”

__

He took a shaky breath. “It shattered, Mama.” Victor tapped the spot over his heart and buried his head in his arms, hair falling into his face.

__

His mother put down the dish she was cleaning and set a steady hand on her son’s back.

__

“I'm here for you, Vitya.”

__

 

__

**February**

__

 

__

Yuuri sat in his bedroom, silently staring at the wall. Phichit said he'd be over soon to say goodbye before he went back home to Thailand. Honestly, Yuuri wasn't sure if he even wanted to see Phichit. He hadn't been wanting much company lately, and Phichit was especially touchy. Yuuri loved his friend to death, but as much as he was wise he was intrusive.

__

There was a knock at the door. His mother entered with a tray of tea, Phichit following close behind. Yuuri quietly thanked his mother as she walked out the door, closing it softly. Phichit turned to Yuuri and smiled. "Yuuri, I'm going to miss you so much!" he cried.

__

Phichit sat down beside Yuuri on his bed, eating a cookie. Yuuri sipped his tea and tried to escape conversation, but Phichit was much too stubborn to allow for that to happen. He poked Yuuri's sides, causing Yuuri to spit out his tea in the mug.

__

"Phichit," he groaned as his friend burst out laughing. Yuuri wiped his mouth off with his sleeve and set the mug back down on the tray, knowing there was no way he'd drink that backwash tea.

__

Phichit nearly choked on his cookie. "You should've seen your face! Omg Yuuri!"

__

Yuuri shook his head. "I will never understand why you use those abbreviations in verbal conversations."

__

"Eh, why not? Saying 'oh my grapes' aloud takes too long!"

__

"Grapes?"

__

" _Grapes._ "

__

Yuuri sighed and leaned back against the wall. "It's been so quiet lately."

__

Phichit tilted his head. "So...I take it 'Operation Loverboy' is a flunk?"

__

"'Operation Loverboy?' Really?"

__

"It's a nice name, shush."

__

Yuuri sulked, chin resting on his knees. "We haven't talked in a week. A whole week, Phichit.."

__

Phichit made a strangled noise, causing Yuuri to flinch. "What happened?"

__

Yuuri avoided his eye, like he was trying to escape, but Phichit held firm.

__

"I-we had a fight. Sort of."

__

Phichit gasped. "A fight?"

__

"Well, more like a silent note to avoid each other."

__

"Ah." Phichit clicked his teeth and rubbed his neck. "So you're not on good terms right now?"

__

"Well, it's been tense. And awkward." said Yuuri. "And I...oh god. I ruined it, didn't I?"

__

Phichit patted his arm. "Yuuri, I'm sure it'll be fine."

__

"I-" Yuuri teared up. "What have I done?"

__

Phichit immediately reached out for Yuuri, soothing his hair out as he always did when his friend was upset. "Yuuri, you've done nothing wrong. It's okay. Calm down."

__

"But you don't know what happened!"

__

Yuuri's tears hit the bedsheets and left wet stains on Phichit's blouse. His friend, though, only gave comfort and continued cradling Yuuri's face.

__

"Phichit, he kissed me." he said.

__

Phichit blinked at his astonishingly anticlimactic words.

__

"Come again?"

__

Yuuri drew a hand up to his tear stained cheek and harshly rubbed away at it. Phichit immediately caught it and instead dabbed at his cheek with a tissue.

__

"We were finally getting along," sniffed Yuuri. "I thought we could've been friends. And I pushed him away. He was just teasing, wasn't he? I want to believe he meant it but-"

__

Phichit pursed his lips. What to do, what to say? Phichit knew Victor, well, from one accidental meeting at the library, but that was enough. Victor made it very, very clear that he wouldn't ever try to hurt Yuuri intentionally. Yet here Yuuri was, crying. But Phichit knew Yuuri, far better than he knew Victor. Yuuri tended to overreact in troubling situations due to his anxiety. Now that Phichit thought about it, it was clearer.

__

So Victor was trying to get close to Yuuri all along, but Yuuri pushed away. Then Yuuri opened up, so Victor got excited and kissed him.

__

"Phichit, I've ruined my chances of ever trying to gain the confidence to ask him...ask him-" Yuuri stopped and clamped his eyes shut, tears free falling as he tugged on his hair.

__

"Yuuri, breathe," Phichit reminded, taking Yuuri's hands in his. Yuuri sucked in a breath and exhaled slowly, trying to calm down. Phichit worked with him, hands held firmly and breathing alongside him.

__

"Yuuri," he said finally. "Victor doesn't hate you."

__

Yuuri opened his eyes, but they were downcast and unbelieving.

__

"I want to believe that, I really do. But it's all a joke, isn't it? He just wants to laugh at me, maybe throw me off my game."

__

"And is it working?"

__

"Yes."

__

"Yuuri," Phichit sighed. "When all else fails, have trust in your heart, please."

__

"I thought you were supposed to listen to your mind."

__

"Your mind is telling you that Victor Nikiforov shattered your heart in two because he kissed you. You shoved him away, Yuuri. Did you not catch his expression?"

__

"I-"

__

"Yuuri."

__

"I've made a fool of myself."

__

"A lovesick fool you are, Yuuri."

__

"Phichit..."

__

"Please talk to him, sometime. Don't forget to have trust in your heart, please. The heart is cruel, and leads you without logic, but the mind is just as deceiving sometimes." instructed Phichit.

__

Yuuri sighed. "You're only fourteen, yet you're wiser than I am. How do you do it?"

__

Phichit smiled. "A magician never reveals his secrets!" He paused, then spoke in a gentler tone. "Please, Yuuri, take care of yourself. I'll see you when I get back from Bangkok."

__

Yuuri nodded and hugged his friend, then pulled away with a pained smile. "I'll see you soon, Phichit."

__

They parted ways, one on a journey to a familiar city, the other looking for something he still didn't quite understand.

__

*** * ***

__

  
"What's wrong with you now?" Yuri hissed over the phone. "And why are you consulting a thirteen year old? You're almost an adult. Grow up."

__

Victor groaned. "It's about Yuuri."

__

Yuri was silent for a moment. Then he growled. "Oh, you mean that Yuuri. Of course."

__

"It is confusing isn't it?" Victor thought for a moment. "I know! I'll call you 'Yurio' from now on!"

__

"What? No way!"

__

"It's okay Yurio," teased Victor. "I'm sure your precious little Beka will definitely enjoy the nickname!"

__

"Shut up! At least I have a love life!"

__

Victor was uncharacteristically quiet. "Huh? Victor are you dying? Because if you are I totally call dibs on your Michael Kors handbag."

__

No," said Victor. "I just-"

__

Yurio cut him off. "So I can't have the handbag? Okay well can I at least have your Camélia necklace? I-"

__

"Yurio, this is serious."

__

Yurio sighed. "Fine. Talk, you old sap."

__

"I kissed Yuuri."

__

Yurio scoffed. "Okay, Victor. When's the wedding then? I'm not sensing any issues here."

__

"He rejected me."

__

Silence took hold for a solid minute before Yurio cried out. "What do you mean he rejected you?"

__

Victor twirled the ends of his hair around absentmindedly. "He pushed me away. Oh he also gave me a black eye. Not because I kissed him, though."

__

"Well, Victor, let me ask you one thing," requested Yurio. "Did you ever stop to think that maybe, I don't know, Yuuri was overwhelmed? You kissed him in a bathroom of all places. He was probably having an anxiety attack again."

__

"Huh? Anxiety? _Again?_ "

__

"Yuuri has anxiety, dummy. I once caught him crying in the studio bathroom. When he came out he was totally losing it. You don't even want to know about the amount of tissues he went through."

__

Victor took in the information, rethinking everything. "So...he likes me, and he was just anxious? Or he doesn't, and shoved me away? Yurio, I can't read his mind. How do I know if he likes me or not?" whined Victor.

__

His cousin sounded like he wanted to strangle him. "You idiot. Do the thing you've avoided doing for over a year now, for whatever reason. Talk. To. Him."

__

"Talk to him..."

__

"Yes, and make it quick. Yuuri's probably been losing his mind."

__

Victor exhaled slowly. "Yes, of course. Thank you Yurio. I'll try my best!"

__

"...good luck." said Yurio before quickly hanging up.

__

Victor smiled and switched off his phone. He immediately began throwing together his dance bag and ran out of the house before he even had time to say goodbye to his mother. She'd know where he went, though. She always seemed to know.

__

*** * ***

__

Victor stumbled into the studio, bag swinging behind him. "Yakov!" he called

__

His coach stepped into the lobby to meet him. "Vitya, what do you want? I thought you took the week off."

__

Victor balled up his fist. "Yeah, well, I want to practice now!"

__

Yakov rubbed his forehead (fivehead?) and glared at his student. "You just want to see that Katsuki boy, don't you?"

__

Victor guiltily nodded. "Yeah, sorry."

__

"Well he took the week off too, according to Ms. Minako. Try his house if you want to see him."

__

Victor's heart dropped. "What? I don't know where he lives!" he cried.

__

Yakov shrugged. "Good luck then. You're on your own outside the studio, Vitya."

__

Victor's face fell. He really, really needed to see Yuuri as soon as possible. He didn't want to wait another week to see him, he wanted him now. All those months leading up to the kiss, he was able to hold back. But now, Victor wanted Yuuri more than ever.

__

Victor turned away, face distraught. "I'll see you next week, Yakov."

__

*** * ***

__

It was Tuesday again, and Victor had finally returned to the studio after a long, suffocating week of planning out how he'd approach Yuuri. He stayed up late overthinking, and his mother became increasingly worried. She sent him out a few days to get a little sunlight, but Victor just moped around. He was restless, and nothing could cure him. He just really hope that he'd be able to make up with Yuuri, that they'd remain friends and Yuuri would confess that he misses Victor as well. Even if it was strictly platonic, Victor wanted Yuuri. Platonic. Right.

__

So when he spotted Yuuri across the room talking to Minako, he felt himself stop breathing for second. Yakov stared out of the corner of his eye, then huffed and turned away. Mila Babicheva and Georgi Popovich peeked their heads out of the door leading to the dressing rooms, observing the scene from the shadows.

__

Then Minako noticed Victor's presence. She clicked her tongue and carefully watched Victor, alerting her student. Yuuri looked over his shoulder to see what the issue was, and his face turned panicky. He stared at Victor, eyes wide, and Minako patted his shoulder as if to say breathe, Yuuri. He swallowed and turned himself away from Victor, sipping on his water bottle.

__

Victor's mouth felt dry, like his devious cousin stuck a dirty sock inside his mouth while he was sleeping again. He took a step back, slowly, and was out the door in a minute, running on the sidewalk, just trying to get away, from that studio, from Yuuri, from everything.

__

*******

__

"It's been almost a month." said Victor. "Three whole weeks since we've talked."

__

The boy on the other end of the line sighed. "Please talk to him. Yuuri doesn't have the confidence to approach you. Please, Victor."

__

Victor held up his hand to his head, rubbing his temple slowly. "Phichit, he _hates_ me."

__

Phichit let out a disturbingly loud cry. "He said the same, you know! Just talk to him! Then you'll find out if he despises your existence or whatever. Talk. To. Him."

__

"You sound like my cousin now."

__

"You mean the little blond boy?" asked Phichit. "The one who threw the trash can at Mila's head because she didn't buy him subway? I remember when he drew all over JJ's face in permanent marker! Oh, and that time he- "

__

Victor sighed as the nostalgia struck. Of course Yurio was known in the studio for causing trouble, but he never really thought about all of his antics and the damage he did in such a short period of time. "The very one."

__

Phichit giggled, then coughed suddenly. "Anyway, go talk to him, please. I'll be back in town by Saturday. If you haven't seen him by then I'll have your neck, Nikiforov."

__

"Fine. On one condition."

__

"What?"

__

"Bring me back a souvenir. I like elephant-themed decor."

__

*** * ***

__

Friday night, Yuuri was alone in the studio. He tried to work through his program, but fell just as he had every time during the past three weeks. His program was about love, or at least it was supposed to be. He remembered when he first started understanding the role he had to play, back when he first met Victor. Before, it was easy for him to imagine love. It was Victor's smile, and the crinkly blue eyes that paired with it, and the silver ponytail, and just everything about him. But now, all it brought was pain. His smile, sickeningly false, his eye, swollen from being hit with a door.

__

It made Yuuri nauseous to think of Victor. So he tried not to. But what was his program without love, without Victor, without thinking of everything that made him fall in love in the first place? Yuuri stumbled over his feet out of the arabesque, and just barely caught himself from smacking his face against the barre.

__

Get yourself together, he thought. You're better than this.

__

Yuuri walked to the restroom and splashed water on his face, feeling the cool liquid run down his neck. He took a few deep breaths and looked in the mirror. Yuuri could hardly recognize himself. His eyes were sunken and dark, he wore a deep frown, and sweat ran down his hair. What have I become?

__

He swallowed harshly then walked out to the studio main room again, hoping to get a little more practice time in before Minako-Sensei had to force him out. He took a sip of water and set it back in his bag again, noticing the little blue hand sanitizer holder attached to it. Yuuri had to force himself to look away. Instead he focused on just focused on the little lights on the ceiling, the windows, the mirrors, the wood floor and the boy sitting on the floor, and-

__

Yuuri froze and looked at the boy again. It was Victor, chewing on a sandwich and looking at Yuuri expectantly.

__

“Victor. Why are you here?”

__

Victor swallowed. “I'm here to talk.”

__

Yuuri’s throat felt drier than before. “Why? Don't you hate me?”

__

"I don't hate you. In fact, I think I've grown rather fond of you, Katsuki Yuuri." confessed Victor.

__

He was seated on the floor, right beside his purple gym bag. Victor flicked his pink keychain and twirled his hair around his finger absentmindedly as he looked up at him.

__

Yuuri was a bit surprised by how calm Victor seemed. "You aren't angry that I beat you?" he asked.

__

Victor hummed and closed his eyes. "Oh, I am quite upset about that."

__

He kept playing with the few loose strands of hair falling from his bun, ultimately pulling out larger pieces that fell right into his face.

__

He didn't seem too upset, despite his words, but Yuuri was still unnerved. Surely he had to be hurting, in more ways than one.

__

His eye was still an awful purple color and had swollen up painfully. Victor held an ice pack in place with his left hand while his right continued messing with the silver strands of hair.

__

Yuuri decided it was probably in his best interest that he apologized. Victor was an enigma of some sorts at the ballet school and not apologizing was out of the question.

__

“Oh...I-"

__

Victor immediately cut him off, good eye narrowed. "I may be upset, but don't you dare apologize. You won that round fairly. Never apologize for a justified action. I totally deserved that hit."

__

"But your eye-"

__

"It's alright. My father was always complaining about needing common sense smacked into me anyway."

__

Yuuri was caught off guard. Victor, the boy he looked up to for the past several years, was telling him to shrug off an injury he caused without even apologizing?

__

Nevermind even the whole idolization part, there was still something incredibly horrible about the whole situation.

__

Yuuri had wanted to befriend Victor for the longest time, and even just talking to him made Yuuri want to rush forward and envelop him in a big hug.

__

His feelings for Victor extended past platonic the past year they had spent together, and Yuuri only wished Victor would treat him as an equal, at the least.

__

But there he went again, shrugging Yuuri off like he was a dumb child, saying he didn't have to apologize for his inappropriate actions. What kind of a person was Victor Nikiforov to be so idiotic?

__

Still, Yuuri didn't want another incident, and decided lashing out at him wasn't the best idea. He calmly stood his ground, defiant and proud.

__

"I still feel I should apologize, rival or not. I'm sorry Victor. I'll get going now."

__

Yuuri turned away, waiting to hear Victor's nonchalant response from behind him. Instead, he was met with a sickening silence.

__

"...ah."

__

Yuuri turned back to Victor, wondering what on earth that boy way thinking.

__

"What?"

__

Victor looked at the ground, eyes holding something Yuuri still couldn't place. He often had that expression when they parted and Victor had to walk home, or that one time when he caught that girl from Victor's school confessing to him.

__

It was a strange face for someone like Victor to pull, and it was rather uncomfortable to witness. Yuuri wished he'd just continued on his way so he wouldn't have to that expression again.

__

"You said rivals...what a strange word to use."

__

"What about that is strange? We're rivals, aren't we? We bicker and fight and try to beat one another at everything, and we despise each other. Isn't that what rivals do?"

__

"...I thought we were friends. We've been talking more, and I just thought-" Victor coughed. “I thought we were getting somewhere. But..."

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"Friends? Us?"

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Victor looked up, face gaunt and stricken.

__

"I'm sorry. I don't know why I thought you'd even want to be friends with someone like me." he said slowly. "You should leave. It's getting late."

__

"Victor, wait."

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"Huh?"

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Yuuri placed a hand on his cheek, feeling tears wash over it. "Victor, you're crying."

__

"...oh. I'm sorry you had to see me this way."

__

"Victor..."

__

"No, no. It's alright Yuuri. Go ahead. I'll catch up later. Minako will be expecting you anyway."

__

Victor grimaced as the tears hit the floor in front of him. Of all times and places to cry, it had to be here, at the studio, in front of the person he cared so deeply for. He felt pathetic, to be weeping in front of someone who made his heart burst, and oh so embarrassed.

__

"Victor."

__

The boy knelt beside him, taking his shaky hand in his warm palm, fulfilling Victor's desire for touch and physicality. Before Yuuri, he'd never really known how much one person could impact his life. He began feeling things, things he hadn't thought of before like hope and loyalty and desire and...love.

__

Victor didn't speak, or maybe he couldn't, and his throat was filling with the words he couldn't say, the ones he never imagined he would have to say.

__

Falling in love is dangerous, and Victor Nikiforov was just another one of its unsuspecting victims. Love took him by the neck and sank its teeth in, right into his big vulnerable heart.

__

Victor was unapologetically in love with that boy, the one he saw every day out of the corner of his eye, the one who he'd competed against for so long. He fell for that boy, the one who wore a cautious smile around him and never failed to surprise him.

__

And Yuuri managed to shock him, time after time, always finding Victor's weak points and building off them to give back to Victor when he needed it most.

__

"I'll stay by your side." said Yuuri. He grasped Victor's hand tighter, tighter than he ever had. And Victor knew it was his way of saying I'm here, and I won't let go.

__

Victor held on, clinging to Yuuri probably a little too harshly, but Yuuri didn't object, so Victor didn't stop. Yuuri's hands cupped the back of his neck, drawing him close, and Victor felt his heart slam against his chest.

__

Somehow, Victor had been lucky enough to meet Yuuri, the only one who made him feel more than a puppet on a string, more than a pretty face, like he wasn't totally worthless. Yuuri was the one who vowed to stay beside him, to be there when no one else would.

__

"Yuuri...I’m sorry."

__

Long strands of silver were falling out of his bun, right onto his red, tear stained cheeks. He was a sweaty, sobbing mess. A bruise was slapped across his left eye, and the lid was almost swollen shut.

__

Yuuri leaned forward to wipe the hair from his sticky face. Victor looked up at him, tears still dripping down his flushed cheeks.

__

"I didn't understand why I thought you'd want to be friends with someone who's treated you poorly," Yuuri confessed. "I thought you hated me."

__

He laughed weakly. Victor couldn't help but put a hand on his cheek, if only to comfort the other boy.

__

Yuuri looked at him. "Comforting me when you're on the floor crying? You're certainly something, Victor Nikiforov."

__

Victor glanced at Yuuri's face. Yuuri dropped his smile. "I'm so-"

__

Victor pulled him in, arms grasping desperately on his neck. They were close, foreheads gently touching. Victor closed his eyes, feeling his heart nearly beat out of his chest to the soft rhythm out of his phone speakers.

__

They sat there, under the bright studio lights light, pressed up against each other. A pleasant silence filled the air, one that seemed to make them remember they didn't always need words to hold a conversation. That alone was fulfilled with Yuuri's steady breathing, a quiet metronome trading silence for reassurance.

__

"In truth, I wanted more." said Victor. "But I didn’t know how to say it."

__

Yuuri felt lost in those eyes, trapped in a light blue that expanded into infinity. Everything was Victor in that moment, he couldn't concentrate on anything else.

__

He couldn't look away from the boy, not then, not ever. Victor was surrounding him, becoming a part of him before he even knew it. Soon, Victor was everywhere-fresh in his mind, the steady fusing beat of their hearts, the ghost of a name being called out from the window.

__

Everything was marvelous, so colorful, so...so _terrifying._ What if Victor was just deceiving him? Or maybe Victor didn't want to be loved in a romantic sense. Maybe he just wanted to be friends. Good friends. Who kiss each other.

__

"Yuuri," Victor said softly. "I-"

__

He cut himself off, too overwhelmed to speak. Yuuri immediately stopped his worrying and instead reached out to Victor again, taking his hand and placing it on his chest.

__

Victor stayed silent, face unreadable. Yuuri smiled up at him, eyes fondly shining behind black lashes.

__

"It beats for you," said Yuuri. He moved Victor's hand into his own and locked them together, not intending to let go anytime soon.

__

Victor smiled, and it grew with each passing second. Soon he was grinning ear to ear and cheeks were shining with his youthful blush. He reached out for Yuuri, wanting to feel him close by again.

__

They ended up sprawled over top each other on the dance studio floor, closed eyes holding the joy that would seep out through tears if they dared open them.

__

Their hands remained tight, never once letting go of the either. They wouldn't lose each other again, not then, not ever. They stayed pressed together, so close they could hardly breathe, and just close enough to feel the overwhelming love between them.

__

Victor peaked out of one eye, seeing Yuuri's figure breathing steadily along with him, their breaths mixing together. He glanced at their entwined hands, and he closed his eyes again, leaning back into Yuuri's warmth.

__

As long as Yuuri was beside him, Victor knew he'd be just fine.

__

“I love you.”

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**Author's Note:**

> Yell at me on Twitter @halesiias :)))))))))))


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